Intoxicated
I was bound to be a little jumpy. The night was strange, starless and grey. Outside the window, I could see the moon in the hollow spaces in the clouds, its light highlighting the soft, wispy blanket that veiled it. I was too frightened to sleep. I remember every bit of it because I was eight and that was the day I had sipped a little alcohol from my father’s glass. I had regretted it instantly. My sister told me about hangovers and the side effects of drinking and it added to the terror I felt about the whole endeavor. I figured that I could manage with the dehydration and headaches, but I needed my memory. So I memorized every detail of that day. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have remembered anything about being eight. I wonder if my bedroom’s still as it used to be. I hadn’t any idea why my family members laughed every time they recalled the incident. I do now, and it was certainly very funny. But didn’t anybody remember what happened that night? Or did they just assume that I had forgotten and didn’t bring it up because I wasn’t amusing enough for them that night? I sigh as I step into the cab. I can’t blame anyone for finding me cute and interesting. I should be flattered, but somehow I wasn’t. I was a kid. Everybody loved it, I hated it. “Where to, ma’am?” the driver asks without turning around. He can see me in the mirror, he knows by my attire that I’m going somewhere special. I tell him the address and sit back comfortably in my seat. “A party, ma’am?” he asks as he starts up the engine. I smile. I realize that I am, indeed, overdressed. I tell him about the family reunion at my old home. We remain quiet after that. I sink into my memories again, feeling nostalgic and a little awkward. I had a small, single bed in the corner of my bedroom, as if the bed were the least important part of the BEDroom. The wall behind my bed had a large window so I could stare at the sky and count the stars as I drifted off to sleep. Was the wall adjacent to my bed pink or blue? The day I had a sip of alcohol, what did I see when I went to bed? Perhaps it was too dark to see anything. I remember being uneasy while sleeping. In fact, I don’t think I remember sleeping at all. I think I was frightened of the delusions I thought I’d have while ‘drunk’. I flinched at everything that moved. The windows that rustled from time to time, the door that creaked as the breeze played with it… I had a hollow, wooden door? I think it was blue; no, it was cream. Where was it? Window behind me, wall beside me, barren if not for the light bulb at the high end; The third wall had a mirror and a dressing table. I remember keeping all my toys there and getting into trouble for that. Also, there was a blue door. No… no. That night I stared at the door. It was on the fourth wall. Nothing else was on the fourth wall. A cream colored, hollow door; Watching it sway with the wind was what finally put me to sleep. I remember because I was so scared. I remember the whispers under my bed. I remember being wide awake. I remember looking under the bed. I remember screaming. I also remember mum and dad coming to my aid. But I do not ''remember what I saw under the bed. And I can’t, no matter how hard I try. Mum searched under the bed. She found nothing at all. I wasn’t quite convinced, but I felt safer because she decided to squeeze in with me in the tiny bed. And that was it. The cab stops. I hand him a tip as I step out and walk towards my old home. I feel eerie. Calm down, I tell myself. I smile and wave at the relatives gathered but all I really want to do is go to my room and solve the mystery once and for all. I feel like a child, although everyone keeps reminding me about how I’ve grown up and how tiny I was when they last saw me. I resist the urge to comment that they saw me a week ago in the supermarket and excuse myself from the crowd. I stare at the room. I wonder what’s under the bed. I walk past the dressing table, or at least where it used to be. The wallpaper’s old and dusty. The bulb on the second wall has been replaced by a tube light. The bed is intact. I walk towards it, dreading every step. I breathe. I bend down. I look under the bed. Nothing. I walk back to the door. For a while I’m confused. I stare at the fourth wall, my face blanker that the wall itself. I turn to see the dressing table. The cream colored door is gone. It was never there. ''This doesn't even feel like my room anymore. Category:Monsters